Grenedal had flown over the city for hours, diving in to protect those he could. The town was almost overcome by the first line of the insect horde advance from the Lost Swamp in the west. Just as the people halted the attackers, the pale undead line crept in from the east. He felt Hue in the north, moving away. He saw the column of fifty or more horsemen that marked his friend’s retreat.
Three of the twelve cities of Humbrey had fallen in less than twenty-four hours, the two invading forces growing with each conquest. The cities to the north would be cut off from any reinforcements from the south, if Duke Malvornick would even allow his Puppet-King of Trysteria to assist them.
Grenedal felt another presence, one he should be able to track and find as he had before, as he could Hue Blueaxe. He could not pinpoint Nomed now, though he was below in Trism somewhere, but it was only a vague feeling. The demon half-breed could now hide somewhat from Grenedal. Dragonblood never was sure why he could track these two beings, what connection tied the three of them together, or why the other two could not feel each other. Like a seesaw, it was Grenedal that balanced Hue and Nomed. Three hybrids from different stock, and they all influenced the world.
Unsure what to do; he rode the air currents effortlessly, circling the carnage like a huge carrion bird. Deciding that these people must be saved from the terrors that ravaged below, he tucked his wings tight to his sides and dove. Magic welled inside him, along with hunger, and magical electricity burst forth as he leveled his flight off.